They are in the dresser, the second drawer
from the bottom. I remember them occasionally while being in the midst of doing
something and I say to myself I will take a look at them later when I have
time, and then I forget.
I keep them stacked in albums, memories
from the past.
Some contain photos from my ‘photographer’
phase. These I have taken myself – photos of flowers, baby hedgehogs and deer,
and rainbows over my birth house.
Others were gathered by my family, pictures
of people who had died before I was born. There are also photos of passed away distant
uncles and aunts, of my cousins when they were little, photos of people I still
meet more or less often, and of those whom I grew apart from.
Then there are yet other photos. Those
images are printed on my heart, memory of them bringing tears into my eyes even
as I am writing this.
My father. My grandmother.
It is because of them that the drawer
remains closed.
*****
I am often surprised by how a photo can bring up such intense emotion. Joy or sorrow or confusion -- it's all right under the surface.
ReplyDeleteYes, I agree - we don't even see it coming.
DeleteI have a few stacks of photos that I purposefully do not look through. Thy sit in a red box. Sometimes I wonder why I keep them. But then I think if I threw them out I'd be stomping on memories in a not-so-good way or something. Photos are so powerful. That much is true.
ReplyDeleteYes, I don't think I could get rid of them even if I never look at them. It would feel wrong.
DeleteSometimes, just knowing the photos exist is all you need. Even if the drawer never opens.
ReplyDeletePictures, like music, can elicit such strong emotions.
ReplyDeleteYes, they can.
DeletePerhaps one day we'll all be glad of those photos we can't bear to look at just yet. For now, though: my box remains shut, just like your drawer.
ReplyDeletePerhaps we will. Time heals, maybe it won't be so difficult to look at them someday.
Delete